Quotes About Author

After a moment's hesitation Doris Sims agreed. She was curious and she liked good food.

I can always think of things," said Mrs. Oliver happily. "What is so tiring is writing them down. I always think I've finished, and then when I count up I find I've only written thirty thousand words instead of sixty thousand, and so then I have to throw in another murder and get the heroine kidnapped again. It's all very boring.

What an extraordinary coincidence." "How—a coincidence?" "That my mother should have made a will on the very day of her death!

asked Father, speaking in an easy and confidential way.

It is odd, when you have a secret belief of your own which you do not wish to acknowledge, the voicing of it by someone else will rouse you to a fury of denial.

She was standing by the door in a long blue dressing gown. She was looking petrified with terror.

Only his eyes were the same as ever, shrewd and twinkling, and now — yes, undoubtedly — softened with emotion.

It is irregular. I know it is irregular. Yes. But I have a high regard for human happiness. " "You have none for mine!" said Race.

It's possible," said Superintendent Battle. "It's only a hypothesis, but it's possible." "It is a little more than possible, my friend—it is also probable.

It seemed unnecessary for her to have had a premonition at all.

Her hand waved softly to and fro, keeping the heat of the fire from her face.

I've never had any chance at displaying my talents as a sleuth. I think I might be rather good at it.

My theory is the truth," said Poirot quietly. "And the truth is necessarily correct.

And you do dance so nicely, Tommy dear." "Gently with the butter, Tuppence.

He was also a stupid man—that is why he is dead.

I've no particular loyalty to Mrs. Leidner," said Miss Johnson dryly. There was indeed a sharp and acid tone in her voice.

Behind the whimsicality there was something earnest in his appeal. He had come to think very highly of the mental powers of this frail old-fashioned maiden lady. He looked across at her with something very like hope in his eyes.

That she can reform a rake," said Poirot, "has always been one of women's dearest illusions!

Well, if you do sense evil, tell me. I shall be glad to know.

In 1922 when the great cult of the Seaside for Holidays was finally established

You've been reading G. K. Chesterton," I said, and Lawrence did not deny it.

I couldn't help laughing to myself at little M. Poirot in the role of a panther.

I can't say I've ever had time to read any of the stories. When I do get time for reading, which isn't very often, I prefer an improving book.

Subsiding on to his seat Mr. Blore thought to himself: He's nearer the day of judgment than I am! But there, as it happens, he was wrong….